A God Among Us
by Shew
Summary: AU. Reborn messed up. It seems his perfect record of completing missions flawlessly finally got to him. Granted, he still completed his mission, but this was his biggest and only mess up in his entire freelance career up until now. Was this how he was going to die? Twenty-six years old and bleeding to death in a godforsaken alley with the enemy hot on his heels?
1. Prologue

The Estraneo falls and Jaeger is in denial.

* * *

Jaeger's gaze swept across the room. Or what was left of the room, which had clearly been the centre of the explosion. He was standing in the middle of what seemed to have been an operating theatre of the Estraneo's. Most of the evidence of the Estraneo's illegal human experimentations had been burned to ashes, but that didn't matter anymore, he mused. There was no one _left_ to arrest. The whole Estraneo base had more or less been burned to the ground; the members of the famiglia burnt alive. By what, he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure he _wanted_ to know. It was all very odd. If he didn't know better, he'd have said that a mini supernova had occurred in that very room.

But he did know better. Aside from what looked like selective casualties, there were also traces of Flames everywhere. It was in the air, mixing with the smell of burnt corpses. And it was disgusting. The air felt stuffed with Flames. Flames of all types from a million different people. It felt as if a mafia war had broken out in that room. And that just didn't make _sense_.

His gaze landed on a particular corpse whose Flame-proof clothes were still somewhat distinguishable. It was the only one whose clothes hadn't burnt to ashes. There were only very few people Jaeger could think of that would wear and be able to afford Flame-proof Aloha shirts and he was pretty sure he knew which of them this corpse belonged to. He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at his discovery. How did _that_ person manage to get mixed up with the Estraneo? He'd have to question the Vongola later. He doubted that they'd be able to clear any of this mess up. It was more likely that they didn't have any idea that one of their Family members were involved, but the Vindice had to cover their bases and follow every clue they had.

Jaeger made his way through the base one more time, just to make sure he hadn't missed anything. While there was almost nothing left of the majority of the base, there were rooms that were left relatively unharmed. Those rooms looked more like prison cells and Jaeger supposed that that was where the people the Estraneo experimented on had been kept. It seemed as if whatever caused the explosion made sure not to harm the other prisoners here. Which made it seem as if whatever had caused the explosion was _sentient_. And wasn't that just a scary thought. He wouldn't want to face something so _powerful_. Just _what_ had the Estraneo created?

And if his hunch was right, whatever that thing was was still _alive_ somewhere. For he could also feel Night Flames in the room that most definitely did _not_ belong to any of the Vindice. Bermuda would want him to get to the bottom of this mess as soon as possible. They did _not_ need a monster roaming around freely. A monster with the power of _all_ Flame types.

He shuddered.

The Vindice were feared, but only because Night Flames were so powerful and no one outside of the Vindice knew what Night Flames even were. But if there was some monster out there with all seven types of normal Flames along with Night Flames, would there be anyone who could stop that disaster?

Jaeger hoped that the monster was weak at the moment, for how could something _not_ weaken after using this much Flame? That would mean that this was probably their only chance. Find the monster and eliminate it before it could cause any more problems.

.

.

.

Easier said than done, as it was only about a year later when the Vindice finally got another clue to the incident that they had dubbed The Fall of the Estraneo. They had finally found three escapees from that incident. They managed to apprehend a ten year old who called himself Rokudou Mukuro and his two lackeys as they attempted to destroy yet another Famiglia.

The Vindice's joy was short lived, as the boys wouldn't budge, even when tortured and refused to divulge any information regarding The Fall of the Estraneo. The only thing they did manage to get out of the boys was their reason for destroying Famiglias.

" _Kufufufu… Revenge for Ventisette._ " Mukuro had managed to bite out through his teeth and refused to explain himself further.

Jaeger had a sneaking suspicion that their little revenge _did_ have something to do with The Fall of the Estraneo. He hoped he was right, because if the monster was what the boy had called Ventisette and if it was _revenge_ , then it meant that the beast was _no longer alive_ and they wouldn't have to deal with something so dangerous, _right_? Besides, there hadn't been any more incidents with massive amounts of Flames that seemed to have come from _one_ being. Something so powerful wouldn't have been able to stay hidden for so long without any further incidents happening, _right_? Maybe it had died when it was so severely weakened after that explosion that caused the Incident.

Jeager could only hope.


	2. End of the Road

Chased, tired and bleeding out, Reborn wonders if this is how he'll meet his end.

* * *

Reborn glanced over his shoulder quickly, making sure his pursuers were nowhere in sight, before turning into a small alley. He followed it for a while before he leaned on the wall, trying to catch his breath. He listened for footsteps and when he heard none, he slid down behind a trash can, his grip on his side not loosening at all. "... fucked up so badly," he huffed out between deep breaths as he tried to push his Sun Flames towards his injury.

As if to mock him, he suddenly felt blood rise up, causing him to choke on it before spitting it out. When he managed to stop coughing, he forced himself to take another deep, albeit shuddering, breath in an attempt to calm his breathing before he mentally reached for his frantic Sun Flames and buried them back deep inside himself. They were only causing him problems at the moment.

His Sun Flames had probably reactivated what was most likely residual Storm Flames in his wound, causing them to restart their disintegration of his organs that they were clinging onto. He didn't have such fine control of his Flames to maneuver around the Storm Flames, so it was better to just retract them. The last thing he needed was for his Flames to give his position away if his pursuers had any Flame sensitive members. Better safe than sorry.

Reborn swore to himself to perfect his control of his Flames if he made it out of this mess alive.

 _If_ he made it out alive.

His best bet at the moment would be to get to Shamal and finally call in the favor the doctor owed him. But as far as Reborn knew, Shamal should be roughly two towns away and Reborn wouldn't be able to get there before he bled out. Calling the stupid doctor would probably have been a good idea if his phone hadn't been shot by one of his pursuers. He also didn't really know where he was at the moment.

The whole situation was a _total_ mess. He was supposed to carry out a hit on the new capo of the Vanetti famiglia. It was supposed to be _easy_. His current contractor, Roland, had claimed to be a friend of the younger brother of the new capo and wanted to help get the younger Vanetti to the top of the famiglia. Reborn was told that the upper members of the famiglia all supported the younger brother and that the older brother only got the position due to the late capo's will. All they needed was for the older brother to _disappear_ and the famiglia would gladly instate the younger brother as the new capo. All they needed was an outsider to take out the current capo. And Reborn was supposed to be that outsider. The whole situation was supposed to be set up for Reborn. It _should_ have been a walk in the park.

But instead, _Reborn_ was also set up. He had expected something to be going on with how suspicious Roland was acting. The hitman thought he'd be able to just handle anything that came his way and hadn't bothered to prepare backup plans. When he had killed his target and was about to make a silent escape, the younger Vanetti discovered him and ordered his men to chase him down.

Roland hadn't only wanted to get rid of the Vanetti head, but he had wanted to off the hitman too. Reborn knew that he was feared in the Mafia. No one knew where he actually came from after all. And Reborn wasn't about to let anyone know anytime soon. No one knew what his plans for the future were either. Now that he thought about it, Roland had probably been scared of the possibility of ever being on the receiving end of one of Reborn's hits. Reborn was a freelance hitman after all and there weren't any freelancers around that were nearly as notorious as Reborn. Freelancers usually ended up joining some famiglia for security. Reborn knew why now, but he still wasn't going to join any Family. He very much enjoyed his freedom.

And if people were trying to kill him, that just meant that they were afraid of him.

He'd be smirking smugly if it weren't for him bleeding out behind a trash can in the middle of a small and freezing cold alley in some town he hardly knew the layout of in the middle of the scorching heat of summer.

Reborn blinked and tightened his loosening grip on his side again. Something was wrong with his previous thought and he couldn't figure out what.

He shivered.

This alley was unnaturally cold… Wasn't it supposed to be summer…?

He felt his grip loosening again.

His consciousness was fading slowly and he still couldn't come up with anything to help him get out of this mess. Reborn vaguely noted that it had been way too quiet. Had the Vanetti given up on chasing him…?

He felt his eyes drooping close.

He felt a presence approaching. He wasn't very Flame sensitive, but whatever it was that was approaching him felt like an infernal amalgamation of _Flames_. Had Death finally came to claim him? Maybe…

Maybe sleeping was a good idea. He felt really tired.

Reborn's eyes closed, his consciousness fading as he heard light footsteps approach him.


	3. In A Flame Haze

**A/N: (I'm posting this right before my exam RIP) Thanks for all the favourites, follows and most of all, the reviews! I never knew reviews could make me so happy, seriously! I wasn't really expecting anything to come out of this story (especially since my other story has literally zero reviews at the moment), but it makes me really happy to know that others are enjoying it (and also** _ **what**_ **they enjoyed (or did not enjoy) about it)!**

 **On another note, I'll try to update this story once a week… We'll see how that goes.**

* * *

Reborn dreams–

* * *

Somewhere in a misty town, rapid footsteps broke puddles covering the ground as Renato ran through dark and narrow alleys in the pouring rain. _Run as far as you can!_ His mother's last words kept replaying in his mind. _Don't let them catch you!_ He could feel his heart beating like crazy, but the sound of the rain hitting the ground drowned out the sound of his heartbeats.

Why were they being chased? Why did his mother stay behind? He didn't understand any of this! Renato didn't know where he was running to as the heavy rain had cast a light mist over the town. He could still faintly hear people shouting in the distance. He needed to _get away_.

The rain was getting worse.

The boy looked left and right. He should probably get out of this rain. It was storming and he didn't want to stay in the rain any longer. As the alleys grew darker, the buildings seemed to look older; less cared for. Finally, he found a building with a partially opened door. He looked behind him to see if there was anyone following him before he slipped into the building, closing the door behind him.

The place looked abandoned. "Hello...?" He called out unsurely, but got no answer in return.

The sound of the rain comforted him. He doubted he'd be able to stay sane if he were all alone surrounded by silence. The storm outside was also probably keeping the people who were chasing him away. Renato wondered how his mother was doing and where she was now.

Lighting struck outside and he could feel a shiver go down his spine as the accompanying thunder roared shortly after.

He should try to find a place to rest. When the rain cleared up, he'd try to meet up with his mother again. Renato pushed open a door to find a dusty sofa. He scrunched up his nose. He didn't like the thought of sleeping on so much dust, but it'd have to do. It was better than sleeping on the floor.

He swiped as much dust away as possible with his wet hands. Then, he lay down and fell asleep, his mind drifting off along with the pitter patter of the rain.

.

.

.

Renato woke up to the sound of footsteps and voices inside the building. He bolted upright. Had he been found? He quietly rolled off the sofa and sneaked behind it. How long could he stay hidden? When will those people leave?

Looking out the window he could see that even though it had stopped raining the sky was still covered in clouds and that it was still a bit misty outside.

The boy shivered. Had he caught a cold from running in the rain? How long would he have to stay here?

He could still hear footsteps outside the room. And then he sneezed.

"I think I heard someone!"

Renato cursed his luck as he looked around for something, _anything_ , but the windows couldn't be opened and there wasn't any way to escape aside from the door which would lead him to the people outside.

The boy found a loose wooden plank and picked it up. He'd have to somehow fight his way out. But how was he supposed to do that when he was only a twelve-year-old up against a few adults?

He squashed his fears down and readied his makeshift weapon just as a man in a black suit kicked the door open. "There you are, you little shit." The man said with a sneer.

Something in his gut screamed _wrong_. Something was _wrong_ and he didn't know what. Renato's gaze followed the man's hand and his eyes widened as the man pulled out his gun from inside his suit jacket and aimed it at the boy.

 _Wrong, wrong, wrong!_ His mind screamed and he finally understood why.

He'd never seen this man alive before, though he did manage to sneak a glance at the corpse of this man. The person in front of him also never set foot inside this room as far as he was concerned. Instead, a woman with a gentle smile and an orange tattoo below her left eye was supposed to have entered the room.

The clouds parted allowing the rays of the sun to shine in. Renato felt the warmth of the sun against his back and suddenly the wooden plank disappeared and in its place was the familiar weight of a gun in Reborn's hands. _This is a dream,_ he realised.

Reborn, standing at his full height now, raised his gun towards the other man, who suddenly froze in shock. "Chaos." He greeted with his signature smirk and fired a Chaos Shot at the mafiosi who had killed his mother, before the other could do anything. "...And _addio per sempre_." He watched as the man fell to the floor and his smirk dropped.

He turned around to look at the bright sky outside. Reborn wondered if his mother had managed to see the clear sky before she had taken her last breath.

He wouldn't mind this being the last thing to happen to him, Reborn realised. He knew he was actually dying in an alley and maybe this was what happened to those who died. Though he couldn't help but feel as if getting a chance to erase his regrets was much too good for someone like him.

"Sorry, _mamma_." He whispered to no one and an old and long forgotten ache in him finally settled as the whole scene lit up in Sun Flames and disappeared.


	4. Fluctuation

The weather apparently can't seem to make up its mind on what it wants to do.

* * *

There was a sudden weight on his lap, pulling Reborn back to reality only to make him gasp for air, feeling as if he was drowning. The air was hot and thick with Flames. So much that it made Reborn sweat from the heat and caused him a headache. _Is this hell?_ He briefly wondered, before realising that he was still in the same place he was before falling unconscious. _I guess even hell wouldn't accept someone like me,_ he huffed in slight amusement, before his thoughts slowly turned more serious. Why was the air so thick with Flames? Wasn't it freezing before?

... _That's right,_ he realized, _I was bleeding out and freezing from the cold._ But he didn't feel any pain anymore from his side.

Reborn was going to check his injury when he remembered that something was on his lap. Looking down he found a child breathing heavily with its eyes screwed shut, gripping its shirt – _hospital garb_ , his groggy mind supplied– tightly near the heart. The child, _boy_ , looked in pain. If Reborn were deaf, he'd say the boy was moaning in pain, but he could only hear the heavy breaths of the boy unaccompanied by a voice.

He needed to help the boy somehow, but he just couldn't _think_ straight. Reborn cursed softly under his breath, there was just too much Flame in the air. It was seriously messing with him.

Reborn reached out to the brunet's shoulder, only for the boy to flinch, even though he had his eyes shut. The Flames in the air jerked at the same time as the boy, which made the hitman finally realise that, as impossible as it sounded, the Flames were coming _from_ the small child on his lap. "Hey, kid..." Reborn said, mind still groggy and refusing to clear up.

The boy finally opened his eyes and turned to look up at him, slight confusion showing through his pained expression. That's when Reborn noticed the barcode on the boy's left cheek, which marked the kid as a victim of human trafficking.

Reborn shook his head. He needed to concentrate on getting the boy to pull in his Flames. "You need to pull in your Flames," he told the boy, "you're expanding them too much." His words came out slower than he liked, but he was just glad he managed to get his thoughts straight enough to instruct the kid.

The boy gave him a confused look, and Reborn cursed his luck. Did the boy even know what Flames _were_?

"Your Flames," he tried again, gesturing around them trying to make a point, hoping against hope that the boy would somehow understand what he meant, "draw them back in."

The hitman watched for what felt like too long as the boy's eyes widened as realisation slowly dawned on him. The brunet closed his eyes and tried to even out his breathing, before the air around them jerked again and Reborn could feel the Flames in the air lessening slowly at first, but then picking up speed. He closed his eyes and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, feeling his mind slowly become clearer again.

"Okay kid," Reborn started and looked at the boy again, as he felt the last of the Flames in the air dissipate, only to find the boy still had his eyes screwed shut in deep concentration. "Hey," he was reaching out to tap the brunet on the shoulder, when suddenly, without warning, the air around them abruptly turned ice cold. He was going to shake the boy's shoulder, but the moment he touched him he felt as if all the warmth of his hand was being sucked away as his own Flames drained away from him at a horrifying pace.

"Shit–" Reborn instinctively shoved the boy off of him in shock at the uncomfortable sensation, breaking the boy's concentration and causing him to yelp, or at least what Reborn would have thought would be a yelp, but came out voiceless instead, at suddenly being pushed onto the ground. Reborn felt the air slowly warm up again as the surrounding air mixed with the cold around them and boy's Flames started to slowly leak out. And _damn_ , how strong were the boy's Flames when even Reborn could feel them as if they were the most obvious thing in the world?

The boy attempted to stand up on wobbly – _too thin_ – legs, only to shiver from the cold causing his legs to give out. Reborn quickly reached out to grab the boy before he could fall face first onto the hard ground. The brunet slumped in his arms, unconscious. There was none of the unnerving Flame drain he felt before and he sighed in relief. The boy was still constantly leaking a small stream of Flames though and Reborn frowned at that.

That couldn't be healthy.

But that also wasn't any if his business now, was it? He could leave the boy here and make his escape. The Vanettis couldn't be too far away, could they? He certainly wouldn't expect them to give up so easily.

But that just didn't feel _right_.

His gaze lingered a moment on the frail boy in his arms, who just looked _too thin_ and was _too light_ , before his bloodied suit caught his attention. _Right,_ he had been injured. Reborn held the boy with one arm and used his free hand to lift his blood stained dress shirt…

… Only to find an ugly scar that looked like it should have been a few weeks old. He turned to look at the kid again, the only one who could have healed him _somehow_ ,and made up his mind.

After all, Reborn owed no one a favour. Only _others_ owed him things, never the other way around and he planned to keep it that way, even if that meant temporarily helping out a stray kid. So he lifted the boy up so that his head was leaning on Reborn's shoulder while the hitman held the boy securely in front if him.

They were going to get out of this alley without any unwanted attention. Besides, Reborn was uninjured and there was nothing he couldn't do, even with an unconscious child in his arms leaking Flames for all the world to see.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I really appreciate them :D I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! If you have time, let me know what you thought about it!**


	5. Visitors

Shamal is having a bad day; nothing makes sense. First it looks like a Famiglia is out for his head, next are fatal wounds that aren't fatal at all. Where is the balance in all of this? Where are the _ladies_?

* * *

Shamal rubbed the back of his neck as he made his way back to his shabby apartment; today had been another tiring day. Bianchi was turning into a fine young lady, but taking care of her (unintended) victims –her brother, mostly– was a rather annoying, if not arduous, task. Though, he wasn't about to complain out loud to the Scordatos. The quick jobs were regular and it meant he was sure he'd be able to get food on the table. So the quack doctor made sure to keep his grumblings to himself–

Shamal stopped in his tracks as he suddenly noticed that there was a heavy presence in the air that he _should_ have noticed earlier. He closed his eyes and slowly breathed in and out before concentrating on feeling the Flame and the direction it was coming from. His breath hitched as he realized it wasn't just _one_ Flame he was sensing, but rather a whole _army of Flames_. What was worse was that it was coming from the direction of his apartment. There wasn't anything _else_ noteworthy in that direction. What on earth could he have even done to deserve a whole army of Mafiosi storming his apartment? He stood on neutral grounds, god damnit! He _made_ sure that he didn't side with anyone…

Wait… That fair lady he was flirting with the other day… She couldn't have been the wife of some don, now could she?! She definitely didn't seem like the type… Shit–!

He didn't really care for the apartment itself, but he had all his tools there. It was where mafiosi knew to find him when they couldn't afford to go to the hospital (though he always charged his male customers ten times more than women). And it's now clear that it was also where mafiosi knew to find him when they wanted to wring his neck. Having an established place was both a blessing and a curse.

Shamal wanted to run away, he really did, but he also really needed some of his tools back at the apartment. Some of them were just really that irreplaceable. So he needed to get in and out of his apartment undetected. The chances of them having any Flame-sensitive members were low, since there aren't many people who could sense Flames and added to that Mist Flames were the most difficult to detect… From what he knows from his own experiences anyway.

That just left him with making sure he could physically slip past their notice. The problem was that he just couldn't use his Mist Flames to conceal himself. He wasn't a very good illusionist. He was a doctor god damnit! He didn't have any use for silly non-substantial illusions. Shamal also wasn't like the jack of all trades, soon-to-be master of all, Reborn. He didn't have the time nor the capacity to learn all skills existing in the universe. He didn't know how Reborn managed everything. That guy was just–

– there. Shamal blinked once, then twice.

Huh.

He could just _barely_ sense Reborn's Flames among the mess of other Flames, but the hitman was undoubtedly _there_. And that probably meant that the hoard of mafiosi there weren't out for his head. Which was honestly a relief, but Shamal couldn't help paling at the thought of what _Reborn_ of all people would want with him with so many other mafiosi. Not to mention Reborn was more of a lone wolf kind of hitman.

Shamal gulped, there was only one way to find out. Steeling himself, he marched onwards toward his apartment…

… Only to see a car parked outside the building with a lady conversing with Reborn, who was carrying… something? The lady was standing in front of the hitman, blocking Shamal's view of what it was.

The doctor looked left and right, scanning his surroundings. There wasn't anyone else around. Why could he feel so many different Flame presences?

Shamal turned to look at the hitman again, only for him to scowl as the lady bid Reborn farewell. He couldn't help but wonder if the popular hitman was just here to mock him.

He got it. He honestly did. Women just preferred the oh-so-handsome and mysterious Reborn to the scraggly back-alley doctor.

The lady got into the car and drove off and Shamal's gaze followed her movements all the while, lingering a while after she was no more in sight, before returning his focus on Reborn, who met his gaze. Nearly forgetting about the disturbing Flame presence, Shamal's jaw dropped when he noticed exactly _what_ Reborn was carrying in his arms and even though he wasn't looking at the hitman's face, he could just _feel_ the smug smirk on it. The doctor couldn't believe what he was seeing. Was that a _child_ of all things in Reborns arms? Was that _his_ child? _When_ could he have even gotten a child?

Trying his best to school his expression, Shamal marched onwards towards Reborn. "Hey, Reborn, to what do I owe you this…" He tried to say in a playful voice, but then his eyes widened, as he realized that the Flame presences originated _from_ Reborn… or rather, the child in his arms? "Reborn, what the heck is that?" The mixing of the different Flames felt disgusting and he didn't understand how the hitman could be carrying the child so effortlessly.

"Well–" Reborn started, while Shamal's eyes widened when he caught a whiff of something he was _very_ familiar with. And before Reborn could complete his answer Shamal had cut him off –something he'd normally never do. "Shit– whatever! Just get in!" He shouted almost hysterically, ushering Reborn into the building, trying his best to ignore the _just barely_ confused looking expression the hitman had on. Because honestly, from what Shamal could see, Reborn must have been shot and the location of the hole in the hitman's jacket didn't bode well, not to mention the amount of blood on the suit, which seemed rather fresh. Answers about the kid could come later. Shamal didn't really want to know how the hitman was even still standing. Must be some kind of Reborn Thing.

When they got into his small apartment Reborn laid _the boy_ of all things on the patient bed and Shamal wanted to strangle the hitman, because _who was the hurt person here_?! When Reborn turned around and saw the doctor's gaze zeroing onto his wound the hitman finally spoke up. "I came here for you to check up on the kid. I'm fine."

"Don't give me that shit!" Shamal shouted as he threw his hands up and marched right towards Reborn. Reborn rolled his eyes and before Shamal could yank his clothes up he lifted his shirt up for the doctor to see the 'wound'.

And there was no wound. Only a very ugly looking scar was left. "...Were you shot? And how long ago was this?" Shamal questioned more calmly this time, running his fingers across the wound, not really believing what he was seeing.

"Yeah, I was shot." Reborn said and turned to look at the sky outside. "Assuming the date hasn't changed, probably around three hours ago." What he didn't say, but definitely implied was that Reborn was _out_. Lost consciousness. Possibly while people were still chasing him.

Shamal stood up straight again and cleared his throat. "Pursuers?"

"None anymore."

The doctor sighed in relief, even though he already suspected that answer. The hitman wouldn't have been talking so casually with that lady outside of his apartment if not. He also couldn't really picture _Reborn_ being chased, but he just really didn't like the thought of a shootout at his apartment. "I'll be straight – this does not look like a gun wound at all. As far as I know even Sun Flames wouldn't be able to heal a wound to this stage." At least not Reborn's Sun Flames, and Reborn's Sun Flames were the strongest kind of Sun Flames Shamal had ever felt.

"... That's what I thought too." Reborn said as he let go of his shirt and dropped the topic– and was that a slight hesitation Shamal could hear in the hitman's voice? The doctor would have loved to check out that wound more thoroughly, but he doubted the hitman would let him. Reborn's gaze turned back to the brat on the patient bed.

"So who is this brat?" Shamal asked as he huffed and crossed his arms. "Your son?" And the doctor hoped that Reborn would contradict him, because a monster was one thing, but a monster that was _the spawn of Reborn_ was on a whole other level and it was something that Shamal just simply never wanted to see.

Reborn just snorted and made space for Shamal to take a closer look at the boy.

That's when Shamal finally spotted the barcode on the boy's face. The kid definitely wasn't Reborn's son then and Shamal didn't know whether to be happy about this fact or not, because he really hated the idea of human trafficking, monster or not. Pushing down his personal feelings about this matter, he got down to business. "So you wanted me to take a look at him? He's leaking Flames, but aside from that is there anything else I should know? And will he lash out if he wakes up?"

"No, he shouldn't lash out. Not on purpose anyway as far as I know. Didn't seem like the kind. You should be careful though, he can't seem to get a grip on how to control his Flames and when I told him to pull back his Flames earlier and made the mistake of touching him, he started absorbing my Flames too." Reborn said with a thoughtful expression.

Shamal paled at that. People could pull back their own Flames, that wasn't anything new. But he never heard of anything like taking in _other_ people's Flames. Could that be the reason Shamal felt so uneasy about the boy's Flames? Because the Flames he took in weren't meshing together properly?

"Make sure he doesn't run away, and take a look at him while you're at it. Tell me what you found later. I've got some beef to settle." Reborn ordered, pulling Shamal out of his thoughts.

"Wait– wha– ?" Shamal started, but before he could form a proper sentence, the hitman was out of the door and already gone.

Shamal could only grumble at that and go back to examining the boy. Why did it have to be a _boy_. Why couldn't Reborn have picked up a _girl_. Well… nothing he could do about it. He owed Reborn too many favours to refuse this request.

The doctor contemplated his course of action. While he was confident that none of the mafiosi around here would come and storm his place just because of strange Flame signature sightings, constantly losing Flames was not a good thing in Shamal's books, so he'd best try to stop it as much as he could.

Not to mention it made him feel really uncomfortable.

Focusing on drawing his Flames, he let them spread out from his hands, trying to gently nudge the Flames from the boy back towards where they came from. Shamal had to concentrate really hard to suppress the urge to just shove everything away, but eventually he managed to lessen the amount of Flames leaking. He could only help so much, the boy would have to fix the rest of the leak by himself.

Next up was actually examining the boy. Drawing out more of his Flames, he spread them to be like a blanket covering the kid. Closing his eyes, he let them sink down onto– _into_ the child on the bed, allowing him to use them to scan through the boy; an ability of the Mist Flame that users hardly made more use of than just the initial scanning of the area before building illusions. Most of the time though, users didn't even bother to scan the area before making their illusions, as they usually targeted their immediate area. But the doctor had seen its use and mastered it to the best of his ability.

Shamal frowned as he finished examining the boy and retracted what was left of his Mist Flames after using them. The kid was severely malnourished, which in and of itself wasn't a really big surprise if Reborn had just picked him up off the streets. What was more worrying was that he had found shards of Sky Flames in the boy's core. That meant that someone had sealed the boy's Flames, and it was no wonder then, that he didn't know how to control his Flames after the seal broke. The doctor had cleaned up the shards, as they were probably also partly the reason why the boy had more troubles with his Flames than a person normally would have.

The last worrying factor was that the boy simply _didn't seem to have any vocal chords_. Or more accurately, it felt like they had been removed _very_ cleanly. Shamal had to suppress a shiver at that thought and even though he didn't know the boy personally, he couldn't feel more glad for him that he was out of wherever he came from.

A sudden spike of foreign Mist Flames pulled him out of his thoughts. Shamal whipped his head around to face the direction it was coming from. It didn't feel threatening… more like curious? And maybe even a little familiar. Had he met this person before?

Shamal groaned, he really didn't want to deal with more people today. _Especially_ , if they weren't a pretty lady.

* * *

 **A/N: I had so many troubles writing Shamal, it's unbelievable ;-;**

 **I'd like to make a shout out to** **ilovecartoonsgirl** **for always reviewing! It makes my day to see people enjoy my writing :)**

 **Also, I noticed I'm not the only person having troubles receiving e-mails for my fanfictions. Which is a relief I guess..? But it still kind of sucks.**

 **On another note, I'm sorry to announce that I probably won't be able to keep up with the 'one chapter a week' schedule… I'll still do my best to update as soon as I can though. I hope this longer chapter makes up for it a bit ^^''**

 **Lastly, thanks for reading this as always and please leave your thoughts on it if you can!**


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